No One Noticed
by islandkate
Summary: Harry thought no one noticed how he was feeling.  Romance, angst, HPDM snogging at the very least.


People die. One day everything is fine, and the next day, a stupid, stupid accident takes them away from you. All you want to do is go to bed and cry yourself to sleep, to death, and go after them. But you can't, because you are Harry sodding Potter, the boy who lived, savior of the wizarding world, destined to kill Voldemort and save everyone.

So why the hell isn't anyone comforting you. Why don't they see the hollowness of your smile? Have you become so practiced in the art of hiding your hurts that they cannot see the pain in your eyes? Or are they just too busy with their own personal fears and desires to really look into them.

For the hundredth time since Sirius' death, Harry slipped away from the Gryffindor Tower and sought solitary refuge along the shores of the Black Lake. The soft sound of the gently lapping waves soothed his nerves as he lay in the grass. He was on his back, grass and wild flowers tickling his hands where they cradled his head. Robe, shoes, socks, and glasses were heaped nearby.

With a deep sigh, eyelids fluttered closed against the tears that threatened to slip from his rebellious eyes. He took several deep breaths of the cool, clean air. Each filled with the unmistakable scents of wild grasses, lake breezes, and even a hint of some animal's scat not too far away. The last made him crinkle his nose a bit, but after all those years trapped inside the Dursley's house, the sights, sounds, and scents of the outdoors refreshed and delighted him.

Moving his right hand from under his head, he stroked the grass, relishing the feel of it against his skin, smooth and silky and green. Somewhere to his left a bird serenaded its lover. He had no idea what kind of bird it was, only that the song was beautiful and made him close his eyes again, finally relaxing.

The sun was setting when he opened his eyes again. Damn. He'd missed dinner. Again. He sighed heavily and just watched the yellows and oranges of afternoon begin their battle with the purples and blues of twilight. If he asked, one of the house elves would make him a sandwich later.

Something was rustling toward him. Probably the animal that left the smelly present earlier, he thought. He tipped his head back and looked over his left shoulder but saw nothing but the wildflowers. He sighed again and wondered if that musky vanilla scent was something he should know. It tickled his memories, but took too much effort and he let it slip away. He slipped both hands behind his head and closed his eyes again.

With a whoompf of air, something flopped into the grass next to him. His eyes flew open and he tried to sit up, but swift hands had already captured his, pinning them above his head. His protest was silenced by soft lips crushing against his. Instinctively, he moaned and arched toward the body of his boyfriend. Only he could have figured out where he was and gotten there without alerting Harry's senses. He smiled into the kiss as the meaning of the musky vanilla scent flew back into his mind. It was Draco's shampoo.

Draco let go of the hands he held pinned, eager to run his hands through that gloriously unkempt mop of raven tresses. Harry used the distraction to shift them so they lay side by side in the grass. Never breaking the delicious contact of their lips, he felt the gentle touch of tongue along his bottom lip and opened his lips, granting access. With one hand firmly on Draco's arse and the other gently twisted in his platinum locks, Harry shifted his head to the right and twirled his own tongue around the beloved invader. The tongue pulled back and lips sucked briefly on his bottom lip again before breaking contact. Every nerve in Harry's body was screaming, don't leave!

Draco's forehead pressed to Harry's temple. "Merciful Merlin, love," came the familiar upper-class drawl, "let a guy breathe."

Harry's own breath came in ragged, horny gasps. "Who kissed who, love?" he answered. "What are you doing down here? I thought you had a ton of homework tonight?"

Leaning back and pulling Harry across him, Draco gently kissed the delightfully snog-bruised lips above him. He pointed to the wicker basket behind him. "You weren't at dinner. I got worried."

As if on cue, Harry's stomach growled and Draco roared with laughter. He pulled the basket closer and pulled out a sandwich for Harry and a pumpkin juice for himself. "Compliments of Winky," he whispered, sitting up and shifting Harry between his legs so they could sit comfortably, but remain touching.

Draco sighed, unsure how to say what he wanted to say. "Harry…" he started. He stopped, took a deep breath, and started again, "Harry, I'm worried about you. You're keeping too much in. I know you're under a lot of pressure. I know you miss your Godfather. I know everyone expects too much of you." He rushed it all out afraid he would screw it up; afraid he would hurt Harry more. "Let me be there for you. I'll sneak into the Tower and sleep with you or you can come down to the Dungeons. We can even look for a neutral room going unused somewhere, just for ourselves. Whatever you want. Whatever you need. Just don't keep pulling away. Don't hide from me."

He might have rambled on, but Harry's lips were on his again. When they parted, Harry had the gall to look shy. "Let's try to find a room to make our own."

Draco smiled and brushed his lips against Harry's ear, "Get dressed and follow me. I've got just the place."


End file.
